Page 109 of August Lane
“I never wanted your money.” August smiled. “I just wanted you to like me.”
She pressed the journal into his hands. Giving him the notebook was a request for space. And he had to respect that, even if it meant he couldn’t keep her.
Or at least, not all of her.
Luke took the journal. “It worked. I like you more than anyone, I think.”
She kissed his cheek, destroyed him one more time, then returned to the house.
Luke got into his truck and sat for a while. He couldn’t feel the clock ticking anymore, probably because there never was one. That was just his heart breaking.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
2023
Luke stayed late to help Silas close Delta Blue after open mic night, so he was surprised to see August’s car when he returned to Birdie’s house. It was nearly two in the morning. The lights were on and music greeted him when he walked inside. She sat on the couch, reading the album sleeve forColor Me Country. Linda Martell’s cover of “I Almost Called Your Name” flowed from the speakers.
“I blame her,” August said. She moved to the record player and stopped the music. “Linda was the reason Jojo became a country singer, even though everyone kept telling her not to.” She glanced at Luke. “Have you ever heard of her?”
“Of course.” Luke picked up the album and flipped it over to study the track list. “Is this an original copy?”
“Silas gave it to me.” She looked at an open box of albums near the record player. “These are mine. I put them away because it hurt to look at them.”
“I’m sorry. I got bored and started rifling through closets.”
“It’s okay.” She stared at the album sleeve. “Linda performed at the Opry twelve times.Twelve.Then everyone forgot about her. Like she was never there.”
“Likewewere never there,” Luke added. Like most country fans, he’d grown up listening to superstars like Dolly Parton and Willie Nelson, white singers he heard on the radio. Although he enjoyed their music, hearing it had never inspired him to follow in their footsteps. Listening to Jojo’s albums did that. Silas’s Black history lessons made him question every assumption he’d made about what country was supposed to sound like. Working with August made him want to write his own.
“That’s one of the reasons I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” August said. “After that night at the fair. I couldn’t get over it beingyougushing about ‘Island’s in the Stream.’ It made me feel…”
“Seen? Me too.”
She removed the Linda Martell record and flipped through her albums, slowly walking her fingers over each one. Luke watched her with a growing uneasiness. August wasn’t a patient person. When she did anything this slowly, it was to avoid what came next.
Eventually she settled on Ray Charles and used the tonearm to find “I Love You So Much It Hurts.”
Goddamn. Was it that bad? “Is something wrong?”
She let the intro play, waiting until Ray finished crooning about his blues before she answered. “David offered me your spot. Same duet and everything.”
Luke kept his face stoic but shoved his hands into his pockets. They were his worst tell. His fingers were already twitching, eager to grab hold of something. Like he could stop her from slipping away.
“Same publicity, too,” he said, with a light chuckle that felt more like ripping himself open and pretending it tickled. “Same shot at a record deal.”
“Same, same,” she singsonged, but it sounded bitter. “It’s what I always wanted.”
“I know.”
“But I have to stay away from you.”
He swallowed a surge of hurt. “Figured.”
Earlier that day, Luke had received a voicemail from his old record label that forbade him from speaking to August directly. Shut your mouth while we handle this was the gist, which meant they planned to use strong-arm tactics to discourage her from suing. Luke had deleted it and ordered David to get her an attorney and publicist. It made sense that whatever team David put together considered him the enemy.
“You knew this would happen, didn’t you? When you sent that recording.”
Luke looked out the window at the sky. It was sprinkled with stars. He’d missed that, living in the city. Once she left, he’d have to focus onthe little things to keep going. Cold comfort was still comfort. He may have lost her, but he still had the stars.
